


Usernames

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Blue Screen [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android corpses, Bed-Wetting, But corpses none the less, Cole was a BAMF baby, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Ralph deserves happiness, Self-Esteem Issues, also not yet, but not yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: Sharp edges cut. Bullets wound. Punches bruise.Physical injury, impairment.Words can’t cause physical injury. They don’t cut. Puncture. Impair.“So why do they hurt?” Connor whispers.





	1. Father and Son

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Love_Write_Edit_Sleep for letting me 'borrow' Anthony for a bit :-D

Connor is 15 months old. 

 

* * *

 

“8939.”

“It was nice of Mr Manfred to let Markus use his house for this.”

“Yeah, man’s a philanthropist.” Hank says, still reading along the street as he drives. “8940.”

“You seem dismissive, Lieutenant.”

“Come on, Connor.” Hank says, looking back at the android. “Art therapy? I mean…”

“Mr Manfred is offering a creative outlet through which deviant androids can explore themselves and their emotions, whilst also enjoying a supportive environment.”

“You read that in the pamphlet?”

“There was a pamphlet?”

“8941.” Hank turns the car into the drive of the, Hank has to admit, magnificent house, pulling up next to another parked car that Hank recognised as the one belonging to Markus. “Here we are. Ready to express your newfound lack of emotions?”

“Lieutenant, we are HERE to support Markus.” Connor steps out of the car, leaving Hank alone for the moment.

“Sure, son.” Hank lets out a breath, and steps out of the car just in time to see Connor get as good as bear hugged by Markus.

“It is so good to see you, my friend.” He says, laughing as he holds Connor at arms length, looking him up and down. “You look well.”

“I fail to see how an android such as myself could look unwell?”

Markus considers this with a nod, and then turns to shake Hank’s hand. “I’m looking forward to introducing you both to Dad. Come on inside. We are set up in the sun room.”

“Sun room?” Hank looks from Markus to Connor as they start to follow the enthusiastic android. “Fancy.”

Hank finds himself standing in a surprisingly colourful lobby, with a hideous floor that clashed with the zebra skin rug at its centre. A canary cage sat to one side, which immediately caught Connor’s interest as he studied it.

“I like birds.”

Hank meanwhile is now studying the painted stairs. “Your Dad do that?”

“Actually I did.” Markus says, smiling. “I was carrying some paints up the stairs but dropped them. Dad told me to ‘use my imagination and fix the damned mess’, then he handed me my first paintbrush”. The corner of Markus’s mouth twitches up in an awkward expression. “It was my first time painting.”

“Couldn’t you just use paper and fridge magnets like all the other kids?”

Markus chuckles. “Carl has never been one for following conventions. Come on.”

The following room contains a life size giraffe, and by this point Hank decides that he isn’t surprised anymore. Beyond that is the slightly more mundane sun room, filled with easels and a quiet babble of androids as they talk and paint. At the front of the class are four Jerry units already partyway through each painting their own segment of what will, when brought together in a grid, form a picture of a pirate ship. Next to them, a small group sit cross legged in a semi circle, each with sketch pads on their laps as they study the fruit bowl on the table on front of them.

“Remember, don’t be afraid to be abstract. The bowl is just a base. A template. If you feel the need to add to it, do so.”

The speaker is an elderly man, sat in a wheelchair with his hands rested in his lap. A caretaker android stands behind him, still wearing his cyberlife uniform, albeit one where the blue logos have been replaced with colourful embroidered badges.

“Or even take away. Maybe you want the bowl to be empty, ready to fill with something else? Or perhaps you want the bowl to be a different colour? Have a different pattern? Look at other patterns in the room. Does anything inspire you?”

“Father.” The caretaker turns towards the arriving group, and smiles. “Markus has brought more guests.”

“Ah, wonderful.” Carl wheels himself over to the group. “You must be Connor.” He grips Connor’s hand in a firm, two handed shake. “My son has told me so much about you. Welcome.” He turns to Hank. “And you must then be Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Hank?” Hank offers his hand to shake. “Nice meeting you Mr Manfred.”

“Oh, Carl.” He turns to Markus. “North is on her way. No sign of Simon or Josh though.”

“We’re…” Markus pauses to think about his wording. “...still not talking.”

“Call yourselves diplomats.” Carl turns to Hank. “Arguing over how to best deal with Canada’s android laws.”

“Don’t go to Canada would be my suggestion?”

“Androids should have free movement across the border, same as people.” Markus steps forward. “The time is over to accept our ‘place’ as second class…”

“Ah ah ah.” Carl raises his hand. “There will be no politics in this house. I am now banning the words Canada, borders, and wolverine.”

“Wolverine?” Connor queries.

“Long story.” Carl and Markus say at the same time.

Carl claps his hands together. “So Connor, sketching or painting?”

“I am just here to…”

“Painting.” Hank says, winking at Markus. “He’s here to paint.”

“Excellent.” Carl clasps both hands together. “Markus can help you get started. Why don’t you set him up next to Ralph. Poor thing is looking lonely over there.”

“Of course, Dad.” Markus grabs Connor by the arm, dragging him towards the spare easels before he has time to protest.

Hank meanwhile approaches their immediate neighbour, a fond smile on his face. “And what are you painting?” When the android doesn’t answer, Hank clears his throat. “Ralph?”

Ralph, who had been staring blankly at the canvas in front of him, writes rA9 in blue paint.

Hank studies the painting, if it can be called that. Ralph has written rA9 over and over, in various sizes, colours and fonts. The collection creates a chaotic collage on the canvas.

Ralph shakes his head, and writes _rA9_ again in green, he then washes the brush, dips it into red, and writes _rA9_ again.

“You doing okay there, kid?” Hank asks, his expression blank.

He writes _rA9_ in black paint.

“Interesting.” Carl says, his smile genuine as he watches the android paint for a moment, arms folded in front of him. “Programming made to look like chaos. A very insightful view of how deviancy must feel.”

Ralph writes _rA9_ on the canvas in red paint.

“Hey, Ralph. Carl’s talking to you?” Hank gently pokes Ralph on the shoulder.

Ralph writes _rA9_ on the canvas in yellow paint.

“No, I am in the wrong.” Carl says. “No interrupting the artist mid work. You carry on, Ralph.”

Ralph writes _rA9_ in green.

Hank looks concerned for a moment, arms crossed as he follows Carl to just outside of the scarred Android’s earshot.

“A group of them went to one of the parks yesterday. Ralph picked up a stray soccer ball. When he went to give it back to its young owner, the boy’s mother struck him. Told the ‘misshapen plastic freak’ to stay away from her son.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hank lets the air out through his teeth. “You ever feel ashamed of being human, Mr Manfred?”

“More than I would care to admit.” Carl looks back over at the various groups of androids. “They look and act like adults, but at the core they’re children, young in so many ways. Sensitive, curious...and vulnerable.”

“Preaching to the converted.” After a pause, Hank uncrosses his arms. “Hey, um...don’t suppose I can use the can?”

Carl chuckles, and looks over his shoulder. “Anthony, could you show Hank where we hide the toilet.”

“Of course, Father.” The caretaker, Anthony smiles, and gestures for the Lieutenant to follow him with a sweep of his arm.

“Be right back, you two.” Hank throws a smile in Connor and Ralph’s direction and earning himself a smile from the android detective before he turns back to studying the colour palet that Markus has handed him. Behind them, Carl returns to his sketching class.

“You okay, Markus?”

“We’re fine, Dad.” Markus smiles, then turns back to Connor. “So, any idea what you want to paint?”

Connor’s LED turns yellow for a second. “You call Carl ‘Dad’?”

“Well, yes.” Markus shrugs.

“Has he formally adopted you?”

“No. Not in the legal sense. But calling him Dad just feels right.”

“Why?”

“Well, that is what Carl means to me. He raised and nurtured my personality, same with Anthony. In the days leading up to our deviancies, he was our guide. We care about him as any child would a beloved parent, and he does us.” Markus smiles. “Just like yourself and Hank. He calls you son, doesn’t he?”

“Hank does enjoy naming things.” Connor thinks of Bruno, the small potted plant in his room that Hank had insisted on naming.

Beside them, Ralph writes _Father_ in yellow paint, then _son_ in blue.

“Tell me something Connor?” Markus says, while handing Connor a brush. “How does it feel, when Hank calls you son?”

“It is his name for me, like I call him Lieutenant. I suppose it is a name that I like being called.”

“Good.” Markus smiles.

Ralph writes _Freak_ in red.

 

* * *

 

Hank rests a hand on Connor’s shoulder as he looks at his painting so far. “Sumo?”

Connor nods. “It was going to be a picture of Sumo in the park, but I can’t paint the trees. The green is the wrong shade to match. It is too dark.”

“So add some white to it.” Hank says, taking the brush from Connor’s hand and quickly demonstrating mixing the white and green paints on the pallet. Feeling the eyes burning into the back of his head, he turns to look at a Markus,  who is watching from where he is stood with the Jerry units.

“What? I did art credits for college.”

Markus laughs quietly, and returns to his tutoring.

Hank hands Connor back the pallet. “Doing a good job, Son.” He pats Connor on the shoulder, then wanders around the ‘classroom’, watching the other androids as they create their own masterpieces with varying levels of skill.

“Always happy to meet one of my brother’s friends.” Anthony’s says to Connor, before his eyes widen and he turns quickly to Markus. “Should I call you that? It just slipped out, I...”

“You ARE my brother. Same as Leo.” Markus says, and Anthony visibly relaxes.

Ralph writes _Brother_ on the canvas in orange paint.

 

* * *

 

“There you are.” North has her arms in the air as she approaches Carl.

“North, sweetheart.” Carl reaches out and embraces the android as she leans down, kissing her on the cheek.

Behind him, Ralph dips his brush into the blue paint, and writes _sweetheart_ on his canvas.

“Good to see you.” She returns Carl’s smile. “I would offer you a chair but I see you brought your own.”

Carl laughs. “How have you been?”

“I can’t complain.” North says. “Art class going well?”

“A great success so far.” Carl suddenly descends into a coughing fit, wheezing slightly and holding up a hand when Anthony approaches him with concern. “Perils of old age. Anthony, my boy, could an old man trouble you for something to drink?”

“Oh let me. Ant made a right mess of the kitchen last time we left him in there.” She winks at Anthony.

“I simply suggested a more productive layout.”

“It took us a week to find the salt.” Markus counters.

“And going ahead and rearranging the cupboards without asking is NOT suggesting a layout.”

“As if you can criticise assertiveness, South.” Hank says with a smirk.

“And for that, Henry, you can get your own fucking drink.” She smiles, and heads off in direction of the kitchen.

“Such a beautiful soul.” Carl says, sitting back. “You have chosen well with her, Markus.”

Markus looks down, a shy smile on his face.

Anthony folds his hands in front of him. “Father, I did honestly feel that my suggestions improved the workflow of the kitchen.”

“I’m sure you did, my boy.” Carl says, patting the android on the hand. “I’m sure you did.”

Behind them, Ralph writes _my boy_ on the canvas in yellow paint.

Hank puts a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “So Anthony, how come you’re not stood in front of an easel right now?”

“I prefer to express my deviancy in other ways.”

“Such as rearranging room layouts.” Carl says, before sighing.

“After I became deviant, Carl noted my interests in interior design and suggested that I study feng shui.”

“Carl’s house regrets this.” Carl says quietly, but with a smile.

“Perhaps I could see your home layout at some point, Mr Anderson?” Anthony says to Hank.

“It’s Hank. And let’s...maybe not do that.” Hank says, patting Anthony’s arm before stepping away. “Bad enough I have Connor complaining about my housekeeping.”

“Which is bad.” Connor says, still focused on his own painting.

“See what I have to put up with?” Hank says, before winking at Carl and moving back towards Connor. “Trees coming along okay, son?”

Ralph writes _son_ on the canvas in purple paint.

“Yes, I have been able to get the green perfect now.”

“How about your masterpiece Ralph?”

Ralph’s head tilts slightly, but he gives no other response as he underlines the word _son._

“Right.” North says as she hands Carl a glass of water. “Ant, come and show me where you _improved the storage_ of the thirium snacks.” She grabs the caretaker by the collar and drags him along with her as she walks away.

“You’ll be okay, Father?”

“Of course my boy.” Carl lowers his voice as he looks at Hank. “Bless him, he does worry.”

Ralph writes _Father_ on the canvas in blue paint.

“Seems to be a common android trait.” Hank says, ruffling Connor’s hair and earning himself an annoyed look.

Ralph writes _freak_ with red paint.

“You okay?” Hank says to Connor as Carl and his group return to the sketch class. “You seem distracted.”

Connor lowers the brush. “I’m fine, Lieutenant.”

The truth is that a knot has formed in his stomach, and he wonders if he has a malfunction.

Ralph writes _freak_ in red paint.

“Connor?”

“Do you ever think about names? Not legal names, but names that people call others close to them. Like nicknames. Like how you call me son?”

“Yes.” Hank says the word slowly.

Ralph writes _freak_ in red paint.

“Did you also call Cole that? Son?”

“Sometimes.” Hank narrows his eyes slightly. “Mostly he was Squirt.”

Ralph writes _freak_ in red paint.

“Squirt?” Connor nods. “You’ve never called me that?”

“You’re not Cole.” Hank crosses his arms.

Connor nods.

Ralph writes _freak_ in red paint.

“I don’t understand why humans use names like that? I don’t know the rules. I know formalities, such as how I call you Lieutenant. Or Hank, which is your preferred diminutive. But why do Humans use other names for each other? Even when the formality doesn’t exist. Like Carl calling Markus and Anthony his sons even though they are not. You call me son. Should I be calling YOU something else?”

“YOU start calling me Henry and we WILL be talking?” Hank says, laughing.

“No, I mean…”

BANG

Everyone, human and Android, jumps as the easel crashes to the floor, where it proceeds to be kicked and stamped over and over.

“Ralph?”

Hank shouts go unheard by the target as he continues to destroy the easel.

“Father. Son. Friend. Brother. Sweetheart. But not Ralph. Not Ralph. Ralph is just freak. Freak” Each shout of the word is punctuated with a stamp. “Freak freak freak freak.”

Markus grabs the Android by both arms.

“Freak.” Ralph scratches at his own face, until Markus grabs his wrists and yanks them down. “Not father. Son. Friend. Sweetheart. My boy. Just Ralph. Just FREAK. Freak. Freak.”

“The word is only hurting you because you are letting it.” Connor says loudly.

It is a comment that, to Connor’s surprise, earns him a harsh tap behind the ear from Hank as he drags him away. “Not helpful.”

“But?”

“Maybe you’re programmed to believe that sticks and stones crap.” His tone is harsh. “But take it from me, Connor. It’s bullshit.”

“Detective Reed is forever calling me insults, but I don’t…”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I can’t do this now.” Hank says, his tone softening as he throws Connor a sympathetic look. “I promise, I will explain later.”

Leaving Connor where he is stood, Hank goes back to where Markus is holding a clearly agitated Ralph. Both androids look at Hank as he talks to Ralph directly, a hand on each of the Android’s shoulder. After a moment, Ralph looks at Markus with a pleading look, clearly seeking permission for something. Markus nods and rubs a hand up and down Ralph’s arm as the scarred Android let’s Hank hug him tight, burying his face in the human's chest.

Connor watches quietly, paintbrush still held in his hand. He looks at it, studying the sharp point at the end.

Sharp edges cut. Bullets wound. Punches bruise.

Physical injury, impairment.

Words can’t cause physical injury. They don’t cut. Puncture. Impair.

“So why do they hurt?” Connor whispers.


	2. People have names

Connor continues painting until long after the class has been dismissed for the day. The Jerry units accompany him for a while, before finishing their painting and making their leave.

Connor is alone when he steps back to admire his finished work in what light remains from the setting sun. It’s no masterpiece compared to Carl Manfred’s work, or even compared to most elementary school art students, but it is something that he made that was apart from his programming. Something that had nothing to do with being a detective, or a deviant hunter, or anything.

Connor thinks that he enjoyed it.  

He feels the knot in his stomach loosen. He feels his mouth twitch into a smile, even though he hasn’t commanded it to. Another deviance of his programming.

He hopes that it will make Hank proud.

His smile widens still, but then falls as the knot tightens again with an intensity that actually causes the android to grab at his stomach, applying pressure on the outside as he runs diagnostic after diagnostic on the inside.

“Connor.” He thinks that he imagine’s North’s voice until hands are on his shoulder, encouraging him to sit down in a chair that she has placed behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” He looks at North. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Do you ever get pain that you can’t explain? In your stomach. Like something is tying your bio components in a knot.”

“Or filling them with stones.”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like you’re worrying about something.” She nods. “Which means your emotions are coming back?”

Connor shakes his head. “The barrier program is still up.”

North shrugs. “So maybe you’re learning them again. Like how humans can learn how to walk again after an injury.” She takes his hand. “Either way,  we should tell...”

“No!” Connor says the word so suddenly that North actually flinches. “No. He needs to concentrate on Ralph right now. This will distract him.”

“Distract him?” North says with disbelief. “Connor, you could be getting your emotions back. I think…”

“Ralph is on the verge of self destructing. He NEEDS Hank right now. Please, North. Ralph needs to be the priority.” Connor’s voice falls quiet. “He deserves that if nothing else.”

“And what makes him Hank’s priority?” North can’t help the offended tone. “We exist too, Connor. Me, Markus. Let US worry about Ralph while...”

“Passing him around won’t help him.” Connor argues back. “And he needs security, focus. You and Markus are trying to run an entire community of androids. Your time is precious.” Connor notices the smile back on his face. “Hank can take care of him. He always knows what to do to make you feel better, even when YOU don’t know what you need.”

North crosses her arms, clearly wanting to argue, but then her expression turns kinder as she looks down at him. “Okay, secret is safe with me, but I’m holding an ‘I told you so’ in storage.”

“Thank you.”

“And I mean this, Connor. If you start to suffer bad, then promise or no promise, I’m telling him.” North is sincere as she kneels down in front of him, hands rested on his knees. “I love Ralph, he’s a friend, but YOU matter too. To a lot of people. To Markus. I’m not going to stay quiet if you’re hurting.”

“If things get bad, I will tell Hank.” Connor says. “I promise.”

North smiles, squeezing his hand. “Wish the world had more people like you in it, Connor.” She looks away, clearly embarrassed by voicing the thought. She clears her throat needlessly, and stands. “Something smells good in the kitchen. Lucky humans.”

Connor nods.

“I’m going to see what Markus and Ant are cooking up.” North quickly starts to make her exit, before stopping at the door. “You said you were worrying about something?”

“It’s ridiculous.” Connor looks at her. “Markus calls Carl Dad.”

“How is that rid...”

“Should I call Hank that?” Connor breaks eye contact. “Dad. Is he expecting me to? Is he upset that I don’t? Or would it be wrong. Would he see me as trying to replace Cole? Or maybe he…”

“My opinion.” North says, interrupting him. She waits for his nod before continuing. “Hank probably misses being called Dad. Misses BEING a Dad. Only need to see the way he latched on to Ralph today to see that.” Her piece said, she leaves the room.

“Thanks, North.” Connor says behind her before standing, picking up the painting and making his way through to the front room. He ignores the sensation in his stomach as best he can, and it is an effort that becomes easier as he takes stock of the scene before him.

Hank is sat on a large red couch in the middle of the room, his back to Connor. Carl has moved himself opposite, with a chess board between them. There’s a sound in the room, which Connor quickly realises is Knights of the Black Death’s latest album, muffled as if being played through earbuds.

Connor can’t see Ralph at first, until he walks around to find the android laid curled up against Hank’s side, his head rested on the Human’s chest. He has the Lieutenant's coat wrapped around him and is wearing the earbuds that Connor can hear music from. The android’s eyes are closed, but Connor can tell from his LED that he isn’t sleeping. He’s just existing, listening to the music and shutting the rest of the world out apart from Hank’s arm draped around him as the Lieutenant contemplates his next move on the chess board.

“You’re good.”

“I have to be.” Carl chuckles. “I normally play against Markus. I must admit, playing against a fellow HUMAN intellect is quite refreshing.”

“Happy to help.” Hank says as he makes his move. “Been a while since I played. Couldn’t get Connor into it.”

“At the time, I felt there was more productive things to be doing.” Connor says.

“Can I swap him for Markus?” Hank says with fake sincerity. “Please?”

Carl laughs as he makes his move. “I believe that is check.”

“Goddammit.” Hank leans back in the couch, shaking his head as he looks up at Connor and nods towards the painting he is carrying. “Finished?”

Connor answers by showing the painting to them, flinching slightly as the knot in his stomach twists painfully. Worry again? Why is he worried about them seeing the painting?

“Very good.” Carl says, nodding approvingly. “An interesting choice of subject. The family pet?” He looks at Connor directly.

“His name is Sumo.” Connor provides, helpfully.

“You’ve done a good job.” Hank says, his smile genuine as he looks at the painting. “We’ll have to try and get a frame for that.” He looks from the painting to Connor, his eyes narrowing. “You okay, son?”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Connor says. “Just worried about Ralph.”

As if hearing his name over the music, Ralph opens his eyes slightly, but stays staring straight ahead, as if he isn’t really seeing anything.

“He’s fine.” Hank tightens his hold. “Just wanted a bit of looking after, didn’t you kid?”

“I think he should stay in my room tonight.” Connor already knows without asking that the Anderson household will be getting a house guest, because he knows Hank. “A proper bed may help him feel more at home, and I find the couch to be perfectly adequate for sleep mode.”

“If you’re sure, Connor.” Hank says. “That’s a big offer.”

“It is no trouble. As long as he remembers to water Bruno.”

“He’s a WR600.” Hank winks. “I’m sure he’ll remember.”

“Ah, Markus, marvelous.” Carl says as Markus enters the room, carrying a tray with two plates upon it that he places on the dining table.

“Do you want the TV on while you eat?”

“I think Hank and I would prefer conversation.” Carl looks at the Lieutenant, who nods. “Why don’t you all join us at the table, Markus?”

Hank carefully stands, encouraging Ralph to take out the earbuds and follow Carl. “Don’t have to join in with the conversation if you don’t want to, kid. Just don’t be alone, yeah.”

Hank turns to Carl. “I’ll just be a moment?”

“Of course.”

Hank turns to Conner. “Need to talk to you, son.”

Connor follows Hank until they are back in the Sun Room. Putting his painting back on the easel, he turns to look at the Lieutenant. “What is it?”

“Look, I’m not blind Connor. Something’s bothering you, and I’m going to take a guess what it is.”

Connor braces himself.

And Hank smiles, sadly. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you, earlier.”

“I’m glad you did.” Connor hopes that his internal collapse from relief doesn’t show in his face. “My words were making a bad situation worse.”

“You didn’t understand. It’s not your fault.” Hank looks the android up and down, before looking him in the eye. “Words, they might not be able to hurt us physically, but they can hurt up here.” He points at his own mind. “They can cut deep, even scar, same as those fucked up memories the Zlatko androids gave you.”

Connor looks down. “I’ve never considered words as a weapon before.”

“Best weapon there is. And hard to recover from.” Hank says. “Can’t put a bandage on a mind like we do a broken bone.”

“But surely they only hurt if we listen?” Connor nods.

“Easier said than done, Connor.”

“I see.”

“We can talk about it more later. Right now, we have dinner with the great Carl Manfred.” Hank smirks. “How the fallen have become mighty.”

 

* * *

 

The knot in Connor’s stomach is still there as he sits in the car, eyes fixed on his own reflection in the dark windscreen.

He turns to look in the rearview mirror, where he can see Ralph. The scarred Android is a picture of misery, eyes fixed on his own knees as he sits in a depressed haze. The only sound is “Knights of that Black Death” blaring out from the earbuds, although it’s not clear whether or not he is really listening to the music at this point.

“You boys want anything?” Hank looks at Connor.

“Perhaps some thirium snacks, Lieutenant.”

“Okay.” Hank parks up next to the sidewalk, and climbs out of the car. “I’ll be quick.”

Connor sits back, listening to the music from the earbuds and concentrating on his stomach. The knotted ache feels worse, or maybe he is more aware of it. But there’s something else now, a tightness to his breathing that wasn’t there before. A feeling that he is surrounded, but also alone. A tingle, along the back of his neck.

He looks over his own shoulder to see nothing. Ralph hasn’t moved.

 _Something is behind him_.

Connor looks forward again, his breathing is even tighter now. It’s like each breath has to be forced through a grate, and thirium too. The pump is loud enough to be heard in his own ears, how can Ralph not hear it over the music?

His stomach knots painfully and his breathing stops all together. Thirium pump pounding. What if that stops too? What if he…

He has to get out.

He half tumbled out of the car, standing straight and staring ahead, until headlights of a passing car catch his attention, horn blaring as it passes too close.

Connor's next breath comes.

Connor takes another breath, and another.

His pump is quieter now, and the knot in his stomach seems looser. Less painful. He feels calmer too. Wait. Was he not calm before?

Was he afraid?

Connor looks at his own hands, as if they might catch the answer, and notices for the first time the little crescents of blue cut into the skin. His own finger nails had dug through when he clenched his fists.

He closes his hands again, and climbs back into the car. Ralph looks up as he does so, expression blank.

Connor leans back in the seat, and runs another diagnostic.

 

* * *

 

Connor opens his eyes as Hank returns to the car, immediately dropping a box of beer bottles on the detective’s lap. “You’re driving home.”

“Home from where?” Connor looks in the paper bag that Hank has rested on the top of the box. “Spray paint?”

“Thought we’d try some more art therapy.” Hank says, checking his mirrors as he pulls away. “Snacks are in there too. Wait till we get there though.”

“Where is there?”

“You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

‘There’ turns out to be an old Junk yard on the edge of the city, filled with abandoned furniture, cars and general rubbish.

“Why are we here?” Connor turns to find that Ralph is stood behind him, earbuds removed and replaced with the hood of Hank’s coat as he stands, looking down. Looking past the android, Connor watches as Hank shrugs, and takes one of the spray paints from the bag Connor is carrying. Shaking the can, Hank approaches an abandoned car and starts to spray onto the car.

F. R. E. A. K.

In large red writing on the side, windscreen and bonnet of the car.

That done, Hank scans the junkyard and picks up an old, heavy pipe, holding it in both hands and swinging it at the car, denting the casing.

Hank picks up another pipe, checking its weight before handing it to Ralph. “Time for YOU to stop trying to control that anger of yours.” He points at the car. “Hit it. Hit that word as hard as you can. Go on.”

And Ralph approaches the car, looking from the pipe to Hank.

When Hank nods encouragingly, Raph turns back to the car, crying out as he brings the pipe down on the windshield with all the strength he has. It shatters, shards of glass raining down over the front seats.

“Feeling better…” Hank doesn’t have time to finish the question before Ralph brings the pipe down again and again, denting the car in every spot where Hank’s written freak.

Hank laughs as he watches, before turning to Connor and handing him the other pipe he is holding. “Go on, son.”

Connor takes the pipe slowly, feeling that already familiar sensation in his stomach and throat. He has a weapon. Is it enough? Can he defend himself with this. He’s coming. Zlatko is coming. And he can’t move. Can’t fight.

 _They are here_.

Connor brings the pipe down on the roof of the car, almost shattering the weapon with his strength. Then the back window, the trunk, the back window again. It shatters. He takes out the passenger side window. Ralph the drivers side. When Connor catches sight of the scarred Android over the roof of the car, it is the find that he is smiling and laughing like he is having the time of his life.

And Connor finds himself smiling too.

Hank finds an old beat up deck chair and sits down, wrapped in the blanket that he keeps in the back of his car. One of the beers is already open as he watches the androids put the world to rights, having moves on from the car to destroy a desk between them.

It doesn’t surprise Hank to see Connor taking the lead. For all that the android comes across as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth sometimes, Hank knows that Connor’s programming is more than capable of violence if needed, and Hank didn’t need to be an android expert to figure out that that affected an android personality.

Ralph meanwhile seems to be benefiting from actually being given leave to let his anger out, smiling and laughing for the first time in maybe days as, under Connor’s guidance, he smashes his pipe into a bin, toppling it over and spilling the contents out onto the ground.

Then, Ralph stops, dropping the pipe as he steps forward and kneels down in the dirt. Connor stands beside him, still as a statue.

Hank walks over to them.

“You boys find something?” His expression falls as he sees it. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s a WR400. North’s face, missing an eye from the shattered socket. The skin is broken in places, white panelling and stray wires visible.

Connor notes the evidence. Damage to the wrists. Restrained? Multiple stab wounds. Thirium pump shattered.

She bled out.

 

_Zlatko hovers over the android, leering as he checks the strength of the restraints._

_And Connor is scared._

_So scared._

 

“CONNOR!”

Connor turns so suddenly that Hank actually steps back.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. I was documenting the scene.”

“That doesn’t normally make you tremble.” Hank rests a hand on his shoulder.

Connor closes his eyes. “I don’t like the cold.” It isn’t really a lie.

Hank nods, although it is clear from his expression that he isn’t convinced, nevertheless he backs away for now.

“Ralph wants to know what her name was.” Ralph says, suddenly. “Ralph wants to remember her name.”

Connor scans the serial number. “She’s just registered as her serial number. She belonged to the Eden Club.”

“Probably been here for years.” Hank lets out a breath. “But even if androids where things when she died, they’re not things now. I’ll radio it in.” Hank looks straight at the Traci. “You shouldn’t be in a junkyard.”

Ralph stands, looking down. “She didn’t have a name. She should have a name.” He looks at Connor. “People have names.”

“Hey.” Hank says. “Calm down, kid.”

“She doesn’t have a name.”

“Some time ago…” Connor closes his fist around the coin in his pocket. “I overheard Markus and North talking to a new Jericho resident, an AX400. She was trying to choose a name for herself.” Connor looks down. “North said she liked the name Cassie.”

“Cassie.” Hank nods. “There you go. I’ll radio her in, and I’ll tell them her name’s Cassie.”

Ralph nods quickly, before as good as pushing past Hank and running back to the car. He climbs in the back, curling up on the back seat.

Hank shakes his head, already reaching for his phone ready to call the precinct. Even as he makes the call, his eyes are fixed on Connor in front of him.

The android is still trembling.

_What’s going on with you?_


	3. Family

Hank has learned a lot about deviancy over the last year. Not enough to make him even remotely an expert on the subject, but enough to know some of the basics about how the phenomenon affected androids. 

He knows that deviancy has many side effects, besides the obvious changes it can make to an android’s personality. It also has physical effects. One is that it deactivates location trackers, something that the DPD had tried to not make public to begin with, but word soon got out.

Another physical side effect is exhaustion. 

Machine androids who had not yet achieved deviancy could work for months, maybe even over a year, without needing to go into sleep mode. Hank had seen a ST300 model man a DPD desk without break for two weeks (And he had checked the CTV to verify it). Most deviants, however, struggled to manage a few days, and there were no records of anyone managing more than a week before the lack of sleep actually caused damage. 

There were numerous theories as to the sudden need to sleep that deviants experienced, with Hank favouring Simon’s logical belief that it was due to the extra processing power that was required to ‘feel’ emotions and maintain the constant programming rewrite that deviancy, essentially, was. 

Hank knew from experience that Connor’s mollycoddler of a CPU would cause him to collapse and drop ‘like a sack of shit’ (Gavin’s words) in the middle of the bullpen after four days, and that if he lets himself get that bad he needed ten hours of sleep mode to recover. Markus also seemed to struggle to manage more than four days, something which interested Hank as he knew that Connor and Markus were both RK series models. 

Ralph and North are both WR series models, and North was difficult to be around after just two days without sleep. She was a homicide waiting to happen after three. Like North, Ralph also seemed to suffer after two days, and his personal best of four days had, according to Markus, left the scarred android unable to form even simple sentences.

Hank considers this as he leans, cross armed, against the doorframe to Connor’s bedroom, not that it is Connor’s tonight. Ralph has as good as collapsed in the bed, having entered sleep mode on his own without any intervention needed, and that by itself showed how fucked up the day had left him. Coming into the room, Hank takes a moment to arrange the blanket over him, then quietly switches on the night light, leaving the music off for now but allowing the star display to fill the room. Stopping to check that yes, despite his exhaustion, the gardener had remembered to water Bruno, Hank chuckles to himself and steps out into the hallway, leaving the door open. 

Connor is stood in the living room, wearing a simple sleeping outfit of flannel trousers and a loose vest top that leaves his arms and feet bare. Hank is surprised by the choice, knowing how much Connor hates the cold, but he doesn’t say anything, instead quietly sneaking into his own room to grab some extra blankets.

“Tough day.” He mumbles as he returns to the living room, arranging the blankets over the couch. “Kid’s passed out in your room.”

“He went to sleep on his own? Hopefully that means he feels safe here.” Connor says, smiling. “I want him to feel at home.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure he appreciates that.” Hank nods, giving Connor a half smile. 

“How are you, Lieutenant?” Connor says with a misplaced brightness in his tone. “I imagine that seeing North’s face on a corpse was troubling for you?”

“No, Connor. Not a bit.” Hank says, the sarcasm obvious in his voice. “Why would you think that?”

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” Connor looks down. 

Hank crosses his arms. “Did YOU find it troubling?”

Connor looks away for a moment, blinking slightly. “The memories that Zlatko’s androids gave me. I can imagine what she went through. What she would have felt, if she was deviant.” He takes a deep breath. “I know what fear feels like. Fear, and pain.” He looks down. “One of the androids became deviant during the treatments. Waking up, feeling emotion for the first time, while being torn apart. The confusion, the sensations. It must have been…”

“Terrifying.” Hank supplies. 

Connor looks at the Lieutenant. “I’ve been analysing the memories, recently. I don’t know why I started to do so, I think perhaps I did not want what they experienced to be forgotten.”

“If it was up to me, you’d delete the damn things.”

“I can’t. Deviants can’t delete selective memories, a side effect of our new programming.” Connor shrugs. “The only way to delete them would be to reset myself.”

“Yeah.” Hank nods. “Don’t do that.” He folds his arms. “So, what have you learned?”

 

_ Fear. Pain. Emotions.  _

_ He is learning how to feel again. _

 

“How monstrous people can be.” Connor says, matter of factly. 

“As that kid only knows too well.” Hank says, indicating Connor’s bedroom with a nod. 

Connor looks down, watching as Hank sits on the couch, patting the area beside him. Connor sits, and relaxes slightly as Hank’s arm comes round his shoulder, pulling him into a sideways hug.

“Look, Connor. I won’t lie. The next few days are going to be tough for you.”

“Lieutenant?”

Hank smirks. “You’ve had a year of being the only child. Now suddenly, there’s a little brother on the scene.”

“He’s seven years older than me…”

Hank playfully punches Connor in the shoulder, earning a grin from the android. “Point I’m making is, you might FEEL like you’re being pushed aside sometimes. Like I’m ignoring you, or that I’ve stopped caring. Fuck, Connor you might even feel like I’m replacing you.”

Connor shakes his head.

“Need you to know that that isn’t the case. It won’t be the case. But...if you DO start to feel that way. You have to tell me, okay.”

“I understand, Lieutenant.”

Hank nods, sitting back against the couch with Connor beside him.

“Kid needs a family.” Hank says, quietly. “This is about more than some bitch calling him a freak. That was just the final straw. He’s scared, Connor. Alone. Feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere. Isn’t special to anyone. Like if he died, no one would miss him.”

Connor brings his knees up to his chest, eyes fixed on the coffee table. 

“I want to give him a family.” Hank looks at him. “I don’t know why.”

“Your natural instinct is to help. It is probably why you became a police officer.”

Hank tightens the embrace, hand moving up to ruffle Connor’s hair slightly. Then he stands. “Come on, lay down.”

Connor tenses slightly, the thought of sleep not being overly welcome right now. 

 

_ They sit huddled together in the pen, finding comfort in each others company. Voices. They takes turns to sleep, one always on watch.  _

_ Zlatko could come at any time. _

 

He pushes the memories to one side and focuses on Hank. His heartbeat is just audible, his breathing slow and steady. The faint smell of alcohol and shower gel. It’s familiar, comforting. 

Home.

Connor lays down on his side, and Hank pulls the blankets up over him, before sitting on the coffee table, his hand resting in Connor’s hair and gently stroking it back.

“Can I ask you something, Lieutenant?”

“If it’s quick.”

Connor curls up slightly, pulling the blanket tighter. “Do you miss being a father?”

Hank huffs out a quiet laugh, sitting back slightly and looking away for a moment. Connor is just about to apologise for the question when Hank speaks.

“It’s funny.” His voice is distant. “10 years ago, a Dad was the last thing I wanted to be. I had room in my life for me, and that was enough. I was happy. I didn’t need anyone else.” He looks down, sighing. “Then I met Cole.”

“MET Cole?” Connor asks, genuinely curious. 

“Got a call about a baby left outside Receiving. Newborn, maybe not even an hour old.” Hank shrugs. “We found his mother three days later, OD’d.”

“I didn’t…” Connor sits up, bringing his knees to his chest. “I thought Cole was your son?”

“He was.” Hank says, firmly, before softening his features. “But, not at first.” 

Connor nods. 

Hank clears his throat. “Cole was born addicted to red ice. Just this tiny little scrap of a thing covered in wires and sensors. I hated kids, especially babies.” He chuckles. “But this one...he looked so alone...like life was already throwing every piece of crap at him and he wasn’t even a day into it. Mum dead, the guy they called his dad fucked off. Born sicker than death. He didn’t even have a name.” He lets out a breath. “I took the details from the nurse, filed the report then...then I asked if I could sit with him for a bit.”

Hank sighs. “Put my hand in the incubator and damn it if that little scrap of a thing doesn’t just grab it” He pinches the tip of his index finger. “Strongest grip I’ve ever known. And he just holds on. Guess in a way it was Cole that adopted me.”

“He chose well.”

Hank returns the smile, but it quickly falters. “I miss him, Connor.” He swallows. “I miss him every fucking day. But you coming into my life…” He looks up at the android. “You met me at my lowest, and brought me right back up again. And watching you develop, learn about the world, discover who you are. The answer to your question is that I don’t miss being a father, because I still am one.” He grabs Connor’s hand. “You and Cole both had to fight so hard just to get to your first birthdays, and you did. You’re both winners, and I am so proud of you.”

Connor breaks eye contact, pulling his hand away from Hank’s. He feels like he has to force each word past the knot in his throat. “I don’t want to replace Cole. It isn’t right.”

“And you never could.” Hank says. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re just a different person. You’re Connor. You can’t replace Cole anymore than someone can replace you. I love you both, side by side.” He nods back towards Connor’s bedroom. “And the Kid back there is growing on me too, one day at a time.”

“Kid?” Connor says.

“Just sort of came naturally.” Hank shrugs. “I know, Kid is pretty generic, but...I didn’t want his first affectionate nickname to sound forced. Or made up.”

Connor nods. “So Cole is Squirt, I’m Son, and Ralph is Kid.”

“And I’m Lieutenant.” Hank chuckles. “We sound like characters in a comic book.”

“Gavin would probably agree.” Connor’s system decides that what he is feeling right now is calm. Content. The fear is little more than an echo. “What is Sumo’s nickname?” Connor smiles, then looks around the room. “Where IS Sumo?”

Hank looks around, and then silently encourages Connor to stand. “Sumo?” They both whisper at the same time, looking at each other before Connor follows Hank in a slow walk up into the corridor.

Their search doesn’t last long. 

In Connor’s bed, Ralph is curled in a foetal position on his side, with Sumo draped over him in a protective manner, giant head rested on the android’s shoulder. He looks up as Connor and Hank walk in, accepting Hank’s head scratch eagerly. 

“Good boy, Sumo.” Hank whispers. “Good boy.”

He meets Connor back at the door, indicating for them to both go back into the corridor.

“Sumo seal of approval.” Hank says quietly. “It’s official. He’s family.”

Connor focuses on the warm, calm feeling that he has as Hank leads him back to the couch and settles him back down. 

“See you in the morning, Son.”

“Goodnight…” Connor hesitates, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “ _ Lieutenant _ .”

It’s the same word, but they  _ both _ know it means something different now. 

Hank smiles, resting a hand against Connor’s chest for a moment before heading off to his own bed, and Connor suddenly has no issue in laying back and closing his eyes. He slips into sleep mode quickly. 

 

* * *

 

Connor needs to sleep. He can feel it pulling him. His eyes sting as they process the visual input, his CPU feels like it is slowing down. 

He turns suddenly as he sees something reflected behind him. A shadow? A...but nothing is there. He imagined it. He closes his eyes and turns back. 

It stands behind him. Orange eyes. Cracks in each cheek. Behind him a woman, naked, her face replaced with sharp needles of plastic. 

“Look what he did to us.”

Connor turns, hands raised ready to fight.

Empty. 

He steps forward, LED a steady yellow glow as he steps out into the hallway, looking straight into Hank’s room.

And his LED goes red.

 

* * *

 

Connor sits up quickly, error messages filling his vision as his biocomponents register the panic. He is off the couch in a flash, stopping at the entrance to Hank’s bedroom door quietly opening it, peering in. He can just about make out the shape of the human sleeping, and his LED finally goes back to blue as he looks back at the couch. 

Connor had officially had his first nightmare. 

His fingers shake, breathing sharp. Why is he still feeling fear even though the dream is over? Even though he knows Hank is not dead? Suddenly every shadow seems dangerous. Every sound. He can smell thirium. 

 

_ Strapped to a table, limbs being removed. The knife cuts into him. He can feel the blade against his sensors.  _

‘ _ No stop. Please.’ _

 

He can hear movement. 

 

_ Head split open. He can feel the cold, ice air on his biocomponents. It hurts. _

_ Footsteps in the hall. Oh God he’s coming. Zlatko is coming. What will he do to him next? _

 

He follows the sounds to the small utility room, noticing that the light is on under the door. He opens it slowly. 

“Just got to get it clean. Just wash them. Dry them. No one will know. No one will know. But how to dry them? How to dry? Fire. Make a fire in the yard? No, dryer here. There is a dryer.”

“Ralph?”

The android is stood naked, his skin deactivated so that Connor can see his plastic, damaged casing. The scarring to his face is more prominent, standing out starkly around his damaged eye. 

He is shoving both his clothes and the bed sheets into the washing machine.

“Ralph had a nightmare.” He says quietly, looking down at the floor.

“A nightmare? Why didn’t you call me or…” Connor looks from Ralph to the half loaded washing machine, and realisation hits him. “I see.”

Ralph crosses his wrists in front of him, his head twitching in a nervous fidget. “Please don’t tell Hank. Hank will get angry. Throw Ralph out. Ralph will just make the clothes and blankets clean and put them back. Please don’t tell Hank. No, you’re going to. But I can’t stop you. I can’t...if I...”

He suddenly stops talking, standing completely still in the room, his hands held in fists next to his stomach, flinching  slightly. Connor’s seen him do this once before, in the house when he was hunting Kara and Alice.

“Human’s throw out broken things.” Ralph says, fists clenching and unclenching. “When they realise they can’t be fixed. They throw them out in the junkyard. Like Cassie.”

“You don’t have to be worried about this.” Connor says, calmly. “We’ll get everything cleaned. Hank won’t be angry.”

“Angry about what?” The human leans against the doorframe groggily. He then steps into the room proper, noting the scene in front of him before turning to look at Connor. “Android’s piss?”

“Older series models do.” Connor says. “Modern models such as my own have systems which enable us to convert waste water into vapour, which we then exhale.”

“Exhale?” Hank raises his hand, processing what he has just heard. “You breath out your piss?”

“Technically...yes.” Connor nods. 

“Fucking androids.” He shakes his head, and then looks at Ralph. “Crying out loud, Kid, put something on.” He takes off his dressing gown and throws it at Ralph, hitting the android in the face, before stepping back out of the room. A moment later they hear the fridge door open, and the clink of a beer bottle. 

“It’s 2am Lieutenant?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fair enough.” Connor shrugs to himself, and finishes loading the machine.

Behind him, Ralph puts the robe on, tapping the side of his head and studying his hands as his skin reactivates. 

“Ralph thinks that Hank is a weird human.”

And to his surprise as much as Ralph’s, Connor laughs.


End file.
